


Drizzle

by aurora_ff



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Baking, Comfort Food, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Food, Food Kink, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, buckynat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6505699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_ff/pseuds/aurora_ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky makes special raisin buiscuits for his elderly sister, but a post-mission Natasha eats them all. Together, in the middle of the night, they make a new batch together. Domestic Buckynat. Flirtation. Food-as-aphrodisiac.</p><p>Tumblr Prompt Meme Fic for Buckynat Week. Buckynat Week prompt from coffeebean87: <i>"Bucky teaches Natasha to cook something she likes."<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Drizzle

It had started out as a gesture of love. Buck had spent some time online that week (while Natalia was who-knows-where on ‘Avengers Business’) looking for a particular recipe: one as close as he could get to the raisin biscuits he remembered his mother serving him and his little sister for breakfast on special occasions. 

The doctors and therapists that saw to Rebecca told him that the earliest memories of life were the last to go. That scent and taste were powerful reminders.

So he was determined to make his baby sister of ninety-something-years those biscuits as a birthday treat, even if men of his era hadn’t spent much time in the kitchen.

The perfected batch came out just before he decided to crash for the night, piping hot as he pulled the tray directly out of the oven with his silvery hand and setting them to cool on a rack. After the nightly rituals of readying for bed, he slid himself into the cool sheets.

Tomorrow he’d ride down to Rebecca’s institution and make his special delivery.

Buck was a pretty light sleeper, but he knew the exact cadence of footsteps at about three in the morning treading through his apartment. The familiarity had him reaching for the bedroom light and not for one of the plethora of weapons stashed close by.

_Natalia._

By the time he had pulled off the covers and opened the bedroom door in the loft to greet her, she was already settled on the couch in front of the flat-screen. The flickering light of the television looping the weather was the only thing illuminating the room. A neutral thing to watch. Calming.

She was chewing on something. In fact, devouring it. 

_Oh, no._

Buck knew how missions went. Pumped up on adrenaline for hours and hours on end until finally, in safety, there was The Crash. He knew it so very well, the pit that became your stomach.

Natalia must have saw the biscuits in the kitchen. Carbs. Refined, inviting carbs. She could easily have assumed they were set out for her.

As he approached, she turned her head. Her jaw was still working on the homemade confection, her supple lips flaked with crumbs. A scrape dotted her cheekbone, and as she lifted her hand to suck her fingertips of the lingering sweetness of the almost-candylike, baked raisins, he saw the bruises on her knuckles.

Buck couldn’t be angry.

“Mmm-hey,” she greeted, mouth still half-full, the plate on her lap nearly empty except for one survivor with a single bite taken from it. When she swallowed, she smiled. “ _Bohze moi!_ These are so fuckin’ good. What’s the secret?”

“They weren’t finished,” he said.

“What?!” Natalia frowned at her plate.

“The icing,” Buck explained without explaining. “Fresh squeezed orange juice and powdered sugar. A little zest. Right on top.”

“Oh,” she realized as he came round and sat down beside her. “These were for breakfast, huh?”

He sighed deeply but not forlornly. “For Becca, mostly. We’d use to eat them as kids.” Then he shrugged. “I’ll do it for next week’s visit. No big deal. You probably needed them more, all-in-all.”

She frowned in the shadows, ripping her eyes away. “Well now I feel like a complete ass…There’s only one left.”

He touched her shoulder, squeezed it lightly. “It’s not like I left a sign: ‘Avengers - Do Not Eat.’” He smiled. “C’mon, let’s get you tucked in.”

Natalia narrowed her eyes. “Let’s make another batch.”

“Right now?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Sure. I’m on a sugar-high. Teach me.”

Natalia finally gave him a kiss. She tasted, if anything, of home.

Buck could never say ‘No’ to her; not since they got their lives back, and they found themselves back together. This time around they had the luxury of going all kitchen-domestic in the middle of the night.

A half-hour later, with flour in their hair and the kitchen counter a mess, another set of the raisin biscuits was happily rising in the oven.

“So lard is the key?” she asked after yawning, stretching. 

“S’what Mom used. Makes it flaky, even if I have to go to a specialty store to find it,” he explained, leaning on the counter in his best casual pose. It was so very good to have her here, wearing the only apron he owned, a gag gift from Tony Stark with the Captain America logo on it.

“Well…what about this icing?”

Buck shook himself out of his revelry. “Yeah….that. The orange.” He soaped and rinsed both his hands off in the sink, directing her. “Two cups of powdered sugar, some zest from the peel, and then stirred with enough juice to create the icing.” 

Nat found a grater in the cabinets for the zest, but when it came to the orange, she asked if he had some sort of juicer after slicing it in two.

That’s when he came up behind her, leaning in just a bit to trap her between the counter and himself as he reached around to grab the orange and give it a good squeeze with the vice-like strength of his left hand, straining the errant seeds through the fingers of his right. Her back pressed to his front, he could smell the standard HQ shampoo in her hair, something minty.

“That’s _one_ way to do it!” she remarked, whisking the liquid into the sugar with a fork, even giving a lazy, little wiggle of her hips that sent a thrill down to his toes and up his spine. 

She drizzled a little onto her finger when they were done, bringing it to her lips. “Hmmm. You want to taste it? Quality control and all that?”

He also suckled from her offered fingers held over her left shoulder, pronouncing, “Perfect.”

Christ, was there anything that they did that _didn’t_ turn into foreplay?

The timer on the oven buzzed before he could consider what else to do with her in the kitchen while they waited.

“Oh, now that’s just showing off!” Natalia teased as he left her to handle the newest set of biscuits without a mitt.

“They have to cool a bit before the drizzle.” He was trying to keep an even head. And despite her insistence that she was awake enough to bake this batch for his sister, Natasha was just a little bit bleary-eyed. “How about I finish and clean up while you crawl in?”

Natalia rinsed off the last of the icing’s stickiness on her hands in the stainless-steel sink. But before she departed the kitchen for the bedroom, she wrapped her arm around his neck and drew his ear down to her mouth.

Hotly, breathily, almost-over-the-top: “If you’re feeling a bit peckish yourself, you’re welcome to munch on something of mine.”

In his head, Buck was instantly _there_ , between the deceptive strength of her thighs, lapping and…

Natalia chuckled as she slid away, eyes half-lidded in drowsiness and something else. She knew the effect she had on him, especially after a mission. “Let’s make these again, someday soon. Just for us.”

“You like them better than my pancakes?” He asked, his eyebrows rising. He was really, really good at pancakes.

“Well, darlin’,” she said as she padded out of sight to the bedroom, the bedroom that he’d very, very soon be joining her in. “Variety _is_ the spice of life.”


End file.
